“But what are you here for,” I shouted fiercely, “to hold the trenches or not?” “Yes, to hold,” they answered. “Then how could you leave them?” I fired back. There was silence. “That would be treason to Free Russia!” I continued. The men bowed their heads in shame. Nobody spoke. “Then why did you kill him?” I cried out bitterly. “What did he want you to do but hold the trenches?” “He wanted to shoot us!” several sullen voices replied. “He never said anything of the sort. What he wanted to say was to explain that the General did not threaten you either, but remarked that in other circumstances your action would be punished by shooting. No sooner did Colonel Belonogov mention the word “shoot” than you threw yourself upon him without even giving the man a chance to finish what he was saying.” “That was not what we understood. We thought he threatened to shoot us,” the men weakly defended themselves. At this point the orderlies and friends of the murdered Colonel rushed up. They raised such a cry of grief when they saw the mutilated corpse that all speech was silenced. They cursed and wept and threatened the mob, although they were few and the crowd numbered thousands. “Murderers! Bloodthirsty ruffians! Whom have you killed? Our little father! Did ever soldiers have a better friend than he was? Was there ever a commander who took greater care of his men? You are worse than the Tsar and his hangmen. You are given freedom, and you act like cut-throats. You devils!” And the mourners broke out in even louder lamentations. The wailing rent the air. It gripped everybody’s throat. Many in the mob wept. As the dead man’s friends began to relate the various favours they had received from him, I could not choke down my tears and stepped down from the stool, convulsed with sobs. Meanwhile, in response to calls for help, a division from a neighbouring corps arrived to quell the mutiny. The Committee of the Division came forward and demanded the surrender of the ringleaders of the movement that had resulted in the soldiers’ refusal to return to the trenches and in the murder of Colonel Belonogov. There were negotiations between the two committees, which finally ended in the surrender by the mob of twenty agitators, who were placed under arrest. The officers who had fled and the General now reappeared, although the latter was still afraid to order the soldiers to relieve the corps in the trenches. He asked me to broach the subject. I first addressed the men about the funeral. “We must have a coffin made. Who will do it?” I asked. Several volunteered to get some timber and make one. “How about a grave? We must bury him with full military honours,” I went on. Some soldiers offered their services as grave-diggers. An officer went to look for a priest. I sent a soldier to the woods to make a wreath. Then I turned and asked: “Now, will you go to the trenches to relieve your comrades?” “Yes,” the men answered meekly.